Change
by ChaosHat
Summary: Dilandau at his worst. Fixed formatting issues. Lime & angst with a hint of bdsm.


A/N: Yes, this will be disturbing. For some reason, I am unable to write about puppies and sunshine. Sue me. But not for the rights of Escaflowne, which I do not own.

* * *

There was no doubt in my mind, no truer fact in this world than what occurred to me the moment I entered the torch-lit room and laid eyes on the figure chained to the wall: Van Fanel was incredibly beautiful.

Not that innocent, cherubic beautiful that even I can admit I fall prey to sometimes. I'd had my fill on those types; delicate, small-boned creatures with skin that blossomed cruel bruises when pressed. You could almost see their little hearts flutter against their ribcage. They used to fascinate and sicken me, so quick to cry out, their shameful voices singing with pain and lost restraint, their blood eagerly rushing forth to stain my fingertips.

That wasn't what I had before me tonight.

Fanel still retained that frustrating grace he carried everywhere with him, even in sleep. His limbs weren't so fragile or easily broken. They were firm and supple and deceptively strong. I should know, I'd struck blades with him on certain occasions, and there was no way a person could wield that damned dragon guymelf without some kind of strength and agility.

No, Van Fanel was no frightened lamb to be led gently to his own demise. He fought the soldiers so nobly when they dragged away that weakling girl he always kept with him. How she managed to wind herself around his heart, I could never guess. How did one charm a Draconian? Was it her voice, soft and lilting like the mystically still snake charmers in Freid? Was it her eyes that seized his heart, promising him with their quiet persuasion all the light she could fill his soul with?

If he fell for that, then he was a fool. There was no redemption in her kind of innocence. Even the brightest light would fade as it plummets in endless darkness.

Fanel's soul is like mine, a dim pit of merciless raging nothingness that consumes and consumes and keeps growing without hope of stopping. You could try to cling to something light and pure, hold it close to you to enlighten your soul and cleanse you of evil. But in the end your own darkness, your own hatred for the world around you eventually snuffs it out.

I have seen that darkness in Fanel's eyes, though I'm willing to bet the Dragon King never recognized it for what it was. As much as I know he despises me, he would probably never admit to himself that we are more alike than he ever wanted to believe.

I signaled to the guard to shut the door but made no move to send him away. The trickle of sweat on the man's brow and the tight press of his heels was intriguing enough to further his discomfort. I know the common soldiers hate to be a part of my torture sessions. Such weaklings. My Dragonslayers would have never been so careless as to betray even a hint of unease in front of me, knowing how eagerly I would jump on their weaknesses. But tonight the subordinate would only sweat. I had much bigger fish…

The defeated king hung by silver manacles, too high for his feet to touch the ground. I'd had the old, blood-spattered manacles replaced, just for Fanel. Royalty deserved the best, right?

I stepped closer to his limp form, unable to hide my sneer. He had been stripped of his shirt and boots, but I'd made sure to inform the guards of the peril that awaited them if I so much as found a bruise I didn't inflict on Fanel's body. He was mine.

It was time to wake the drowsing beauty with a kiss.

My hand connected with his cheek, a slap worthy of a brothel pimp. He awoke instantly, his body tensing, jerking as it dangled.

"Wakey, Wakey," I said in a low, sing-songy voice. "I can't let you just sleep the night away."

It was like watching a cinnamon-gold crackle of lightening flash, the way the sudden realization lit up in his eyes of where he was, whom he was with, and the danger he was in. I can't say I don't enjoy the effect I have on people, but this--this was priceless.

"Dilandau…" He growled, focusing keenly on me, his upper lip curling back, "You bastard."

Spoken like a true hero. I smiled at him.

"Yes, and hello to you too!" I couldn't keep back my peal of laughter. After waiting so long, with Fanel right where I wanted him, it was funny to me that fate was finally siding with me.

"You...Hitomi—" He twisted against the chains.

"That girl? Yes, Fanel," I said, not capable of pretending remorse. "The girl is dead. I had her slain by the soldiers while you fought me. But you…" I stepped closer to him, my hand lifting to take hold of his chin. He flinched, but his eyes held my gaze. "You are still alive, a hare who took a wrong turn into the viper's lair. How…fortunate…for you." His fingers clenched the chains, jerking him forward, and in that moment I saw my eyes reflected back at me. His darkness, so like my own, like the glow of hellfire on the damned.

"I'LL DESTROY YOU " he roared, startling me back a step. His voice lowered and hit that deadly note, the one that only pain and bloodlust could summon. "I don't care what it takes."

"Ah, yes," I breathed, moving closer to him again, courting the violence in him, a leather-sheathed hand pressed against his chest, "I seem to remember a saying…'A dragon is fierce, but a wounded dragon is all the more dangerous.' Wounded and manacled and hanging on my wall."

"You'll die." His voice was even and lacking emotion now. "I'll kill you and watch you die before me. Not even the tortured souls of your men will be there to greet you when I send you to the lowest pit of Hell."

I felt that last statement as keenly as a dagger blade. The anger, the dark, terrible anger that raged within my chest like a caged animal thumped sickly at the barrier of my sanity. I wanted to let go. I wanted it like nothing else, to feel the tether break, much as it did for me in the rush of battle.

But it was too easy to recall the last time I had. I'd woken up beating the dead, bloody face of a subordinate, my fists sticky and a crowd of men standing a healthy distance away. The only thing I remembered about the man before I ruined his face was that his coloring reminded me of Chesta's.

"I hope not," I whispered quietly, my fingers curling unexpectedly against his chest. I studied the line of his jaw instead of looking him in the eye. "Death released them from my service. There's no reason they should follow me to Hell."

I could tell my answer shocked him. For a brief moment, there was a laxness in his body. The dark arch of his brow lifted beneath the silken fringe of hair brushing his forehead. But he was soon tense again and he shook his head, reminding himself.

"Don't pretend to care, Dilandau. You glory in death. You couldn't care less if the world burned around you, as long as you were able to warm yourself in the flames."

I don't think he saw it coming, but I lunged forward. I couldn't help that my hands suddenly found their way around his neck, pressing into the sun-kissed skin that sheathed it. "Yes," I hissed. "The world can burn for all I care. Every last stinking coward should die and rot to dust But my Dragonslayers, Chesta, Miguel, Gatti, Dalet, Guimel, Viole…they deserved to live. They earned the right!"

He looked at me then with such pity, I really couldn't bear it. I squeezed my fingers around his neck and watched him gasp then choke to quiet as I poured my rage onto his windpipe. My jaw hurt with the pressure of my clenched teeth, and I saw his hands wrap around the chains holding him up.

"Fanel…" My voiced guttered, with pain and something else, something unnamable and broken within me, as I felt a strange pressure on my own throat, tightening, squeezing, as if somehow Van's hands had slipped free of the chains and were strangling me back. My eyes darted up to see if it was true, but his hands were still above him. He watched me as I let go my hold on him and dropped to my knees. I couldn't breathe; my vision blurred then flickered. The force of it drove my hands to clutch at my neck, seeking the terrible noose constricting my air supply.

I remembered this feeling. It had happened before, though I am grateful that only Folken was around to witness it. One of the despicable side effects of the torture I went through, the "maintenance" as Dornkirk's sorcerers called it, where needles and shackles and cold metal tables became a tight fitting world of suffering.

It felt as if my body was caving in on itself. There were things moving, wrenching themselves from one place to slide painfully to another. It was beyond agonizing, to the point where I could only gasp at the pain and try to steady myself on my arms.

Finally, in a one last jolting ripple, I felt the inner movements stop. My breathing was the only sound in the room besides the sharp crackle of the torches around us. I struggled to my feet, failing the first two times before I threw my dignity aside and used the stone wall. Sweat dampened my forehead and ran over my eyelids, but I forced myself to look up at Fanel, my eyes as hard as I could make them.

Though, somehow I doubted I was as threatening when my normal wine colored eyes were replaced with a bright summer blue.

"What…_are_ you?" Van's eyes bore into mine briefly before they moved over the changed parts of my body. There were curves where there hadn't been before, a slimness where hard muscle had once occupied. I know he was shocked beyond all reason.

"Sometimes," I said in the drastically changed timbre of my new voice, "I don't even know myself." The tone was light and almost bubbly, shaky with my breathing. I instantly hated it.

I watched his eyes draw down the length of my body once again, and I felt the first flicker of heat inside me. It was much different than it felt as a man; no building pressure, this, but a slow, tantalizing burning warmth between my thighs. Fanel's gaze was still tempered with disbelief, but the way his eyes lingered on obvious points of interest increased the feeling. I had a man's mind, after all, and I had already admitted to myself that I found Fanel beautiful. I had always wanted to hurt him, break him, but I had often entertained fantasies of what I would have him do afterwards. Of course, there was a noticeable chink in the plan now.

Slowly, I lifted a hand to my high collar and unbuttoned the first few buttons. In all honesty, I could care less about the breasts. They seemed rather extraneous to me as a soldier, but it seemed as though Van's eyes couldn't stop staring at them in dawning horror. I smiled slowly. Predatorily. I was confident I had his full attention now.

"This is the curse of my existence, King of Fanelia. If I belong in Hell, then maybe this is form that real evil takes." I moved closer to him as his brow furrowed, seemingly caught between distress and morbid curiosity at the approaching flesh peeking out from my uniform. My hand slid up to cup his jaw before he had the chance to look up at me. "This must be what damnation looks like." He was a drowning man, staring into my eyes.

"Stop…" he rasped. "Stay away from me! " He jerked his head from my light hold but now I had him, I had seen the look of horror as he realized the body I was in attracted him.

"Shhh…" I whispered into his neck, my chest pressed against his. He was trembling. "It's alright, Fanel…Van…" I breathed in his ear.

Fanel struggled against me, but it was obvious through the rising evidence in his trousers that it wasn't from disgust. He fought the chains that held him, and I pushed into him further, his excitement cradled between my now girlish hips.

My hands reached up to join his around the manacles and, seizing the opportunity, I kissed him hard on his open, gasping mouth. It was very much like trying to grasp a dragon tail and hold on. He thrashed and bucked yet I kept my lips crushed to his and tasted blood. The taste was…unexpectedly sweet to me.

It was a gradual thing, waiting for him to tire. He was panting hard against my mouth and his skin was hot to the touch, his shoulders probably burning from the strain he put on them. Slowly, I lifted my mouth from his and met his gaze. He resembled a wilted iris with his lips bruised and bleeding and his eyes scared, vulnerable. Such beauty Fanel had.

I kissed him again, but this time it was gentle and velvet soft. And I felt his tears against my scarred cheek as I deepened the kiss without resistance.

My hand pulled downward to release him from his pants. He gasped at the first touch of skin to hot skin, but fresh tears trickled from his dark lashes when I gripped him in my hand. Gently, I held him, so gently. I felt his chest hitch in anguish.

Unable to draw it out any longer, for my own tenuous sanity, I ordered the guard out and quickly removed my pants and boots without ceremony. Van was mine to possess, and the body I was in ached to feel that truth.

My fingers joined his once more at the manacles. With one last press of lips, I lifted myself using only my hands and the tips of my toes against the wall.

As a man, nothing ever felt as good as that first plunge of heat, not even release. As a woman…Eyes closed and a lip between my teeth, I slowly inched my body down until I could feel his hips against me. I felt him shudder under me, inside me, heard his soft moan, and opened my eyes to a sight that made muscles I forgot I had, convulse. Van Fanel, my enemy, my rival in skill, the carver of the despicable scar on my cheek, and killer of my Dragonslayers, had his head thrown back in passionate defeat.

I had my feet braced against the wall to test my maneuverability, and the slight, teasing movements made Van toss his head to the side. His eyes were pleading with mine._ Please. Finish this. End this. Do something. You've won.  
_  
There was nothing then, nor has there been, sweeter to me than his pained acceptance. And with that dizzying, satisfying knowledge singing about my head, I gave him what he wanted.

With the slim strength of my legs and hands, I rose and sank on the hot hardness of him as fast and vigorously as I could. His breathing was almost a sob as I slammed into him. Mine was so quick and hard I didn't have the breath to spare on moans of pleasure. My legs burned yet I could not stop. Sensation ruled me. There was nothing else.

***

We were nearing the finish. Van's hips jerked into mine and I felt him quivering, trying to hold back. I was relentless, burying my face into his neck and smelling his light musky scent as I pounded against him almost double-speed. His eyes opened wide as I caught his gaze, as he realized that I had been watching him the entire time, and his release was like the inevitable crash of tide against the rocks.

I fell onto to him one last time with a loud gasp as he pulsed inside me. His eyes were screwed shut, as if he didn't want to give up pleasure's hold on him, his tan skin ruddy and almost sparkling with a light sheen of sweat. I half-expected those fabled white wings to burst from his back to complete the picture. But as it was, his beauty tightened something within me. It was not something pathetic, like a heart. I chose to forego such weaknesses long ago.

When his fluttering muscles finally relaxed beneath me, when my feet finally touched the cool stone floor, softly, I kissed him, with all the feeling I had in me, a culmination of pent up frustration and obsession. For those moments, I allowed myself a glimpse of what could have been, had our world been different.

I heard him utter something unintelligible. It could have been my name. It could have been denial of what had just happened.  
I leaned forward, ensnaring his face betwixt my palms so that he could do nothing but regard me with his half-lidded gaze. "This isn't the end, my little king. There will be more, so much more. You owe me," I whispered to him as I rubbed my scar against his cheek. "And I, most assuredly, owe you."

*****

~If it makes anyone feel better, Hitomi doesn't have to be dead. Dilandau is a cruel, beautiful bastard. He could be lying. Heh. Also, I wanted to mention, this story is slightly inspired by rainjewel's Behind Enemy Lines. Of course, not at all the same, but Van's bewilderment at an attractive gender-bending enemy was just too good to pass up. Just giving credit where it's due.


End file.
